This is the second time I'm dong this, cos the first one got eaten,which is why it's coming out in the midddle of the day, instead of the middle of the night. This may not be as good as the original, but it's the best I can do. I wish eternal damnation on every computer, ever, swear to Christ.

At night I see the stars on fire 
I see the world in flames 
And it's all becasue of you 
Or your thousand other names

Hey

Well, I've got a new computer, and as anyone with half a brain could have predicted, I already hate the motherfucker. HATE it, deeply and truly. Not going to bore you ranting about how much I despise that back stabbing whore technology- okay, maybe not much- but the animosity between me and it is genuiine and heartfelt on both sides, cobra and mongoose, cowboy and Indian, Dusty Rhodes and Terry Funk, forever and ever, world without end, amen.

And it's not just becasue I hate change, as my darling daughter suggeted last night, change for the better I'm all for, but change for the worse, as this has been, what's the fucking poiint? This damn thing is ten times worse than the old one ever thought about being, I've never dealt with ANYTHING as shitty as this new computer, it won't connect to anythng, doesn't save when it says saved, it's been a damn nightmare, even a for a pessimistic technophobe like myself, it's been so bad I can't believe it.

Got that tape to DVD device and again as anyone could have predicted, it doesn't work right. The sound is not in sync with the visual. I've been dubbing over some porn stuff, home made and pro, cos the audio doesn't matter there anyway- I have, what I think, anyway, is quite a few (pro) porn tapes, probably 25-30, but I've only ever bouight two, the others I either got for free (back in the day Loretta used to order a lot of shit form Adam and Eve and they'd always send along some comp tapes with your outfit or device or whatever, man, she got this outfit one time was nothng but a bunch of vinyl straps, to give her her due she looked hotter than shit, wore it once and while in action her big ass tits popped the damn thing, but it was fun while it lasted, just like a lot of things were back then, including "back then")- or else they were given to me by folks who didn't want them anymore.

Joe says he thnks he can work with the tape/dvd thing and get it to work right, and that's cool, I realize I'm damn lucky to have someone who's willing to put in all this effort on my behalf, but the gist of it is he shouldn't fuckng have to, the goddamn thing should just WORK, period, without him having to do all this voodoo crap to it.
Fuck technology, I swear, fuck it dry.

I also feel like homemade shit right now, physically, been in a decline for a while, don't know if it's stress or what, I figure at least some of it is that I don't get any sleep, between my Dad and Al, fuck them both, too, seriously, I'm so goddamn sick of both of 'em I could puke.

Just always tired, my strength and stamina are both just a fuickng joke right now, took ten days off from working out after the match at State cos my knees and shoulder have just been screaming for a break (that reminds me, at the old man party Chris gave me a very cool Avengers t-shirt- Loretta even commented on it when I wore it to drop off the girls- and a workout for old men booklet, once I quit wrestling, which is still a ways off, I'm going off the fuckng big weights, you better believe, it's all just gonna be about conditioning, nothng else, I don't care if I go down to 170 pounds, it'll all be prime) got back to it last Monday, holy fuck, it was like I'd been away from it ten years, discouraging, you bet. Did I still do my normal workout? Yeah, but it was damn hard. DAMN hard.

I don't seem to be healing right, either, I sprained my wrist going over the top rope in Mullens last spring, the fucker is still stiff and sore, whenever I bend it back and put any weight on it, like to bench, or do push ups, it still hurts like fuck. And those cuts on my shoulder where I gigged myself well over a month ago in Nitro still haven't healed up, they were pretty deep, but still

I guess most alarming, I drank a piddley 14 PBR last night and woke up around 4 am (went to bed at 3 am) sicker than shit, never threw up but I wanted to, raging headache, stomach just on FIRE, sweating like a pig- that's not cool. I thought it might have been because I hadn't eaten any yesterday- man, I wasn't hungry- but I've drunk a LOT more than that on no food and haven't felt anywhere near that bad.

Still feel like hell today, sucking down Fusion drinks (10 for $10 at Kroger last week), probably hit the PBR before this is over, though, I'll let you know.

Not a lot of mail, that I can recall, anyway, my head's so cottony now I'd almost think I had another concussion. Someone did ask how Aline's vist is going, good, she's taken a lot of the having to be right on top of my parent's drudge off of my back, been able to get out of the house more than ususal, was supposed to get out this weeknd but it fell through. c'est la fuckng vie.

I did overhear Aline talking to Teresa (Tanner, aka the Flying Dutchman's, mom) a week or so after she got here, saying "Bit wants something every two minutes and Dot's not in her right mind anymore I don't know how Billy stands it, especailly as excitable as he is".

Excitable Billy, that 's me. And I can't stand it, that's how.

Al's been crazier than usual as well, he woke up the mkiddle of one night week before last, didn't recognize where he was, thought he was in some fuckng hotel and didn't have the money to pay his bill, so he got up and snuck out of the house- yeah, funny, if you're not the one responsible for him. Fortunately I was lying there awake, heard him open the front door- what the fuck?- by the time I got dowmstairs he was already out of the house and about half a block down the street and also already as damn lost as the soul of at least one of his caretakers.

Now I lay down on the floor in front of the door- I wouldn't lay my head on that couch for ten million dollars- if I lay down at all, cos if I'd been asleep the other night who knows where the fuck he might have ended up. Not on my watch, he doesn't.

(AS LONG AS I'M BEHIND THE WHEEL, THERE'LL BE NO SPITTNG ON THIS BUS).

Exactly.

He's also gettng picky about what we watch on tv--

Al on Food Network- "Damn cooking is confusing (and I'd italicize confusing here, but this useless shitbag Hotmail I'm typiing this on instead of my old mial site doesn't fucking have italics- God bless, don't get me fucking started again). Let's watch somethng else."

Al on Sci Fi channel- "Damn a person could give themselves some kind of mental disorder watching this shit. Let's watch somethg else."

Al on Girls Gone Wild- "Damn they are going wild. LOOK at em. Let's watch this."
Nasty old thing.

What's Bill been up to (I'm startng on the PBR now, probably not a good idea, just the smell of it is making me gag, but it doesn't feel right doing one of these without a beer in fromt of me)?

(BE A MAN. MOTHERFUCKER).

Always. Dear GOD, this beer is going down hard.

(BE A- )

I know. I know

Anyway, went to a birthday party for Danny last Friday, not at all in the mood (neither was he, as it turned out) but it was expected of me, went late, left early, drank a single beer, a Spaten, never heard of it before, typical German beer, pretty good, there were some interesting people there, not all locals, from Arkansas and Indiana and I found out that Chi (short for Chidem), who produced, uhm I can't underline anymore either, 16 to Life, is Turkish. I knew she wasn't from Cabin Creek but I didn't know she was from Istanbul, pretty cool, she told me the trailer for 16 to Life should be done in time for the- oh, FUCK ME.

It should be done in time fior the WV Film Festival the weekend of 10/7 which I'll be attending (need to drum up some money for DFZ VS ), I even said I was busy that weekend when we first talked about camping, then I forgot and scheduled the great Lewis and Clark canoe trip for that weekend, guys, let's put it back a weekend, okay, to the 14th. Sorry, it's this not good brain of mine.

So, in the upcomng events file, beside the Festival, Joe and Ron and I, and maybe others, will be going on the annual fall boat day trip week after this, then the weekend of the 14th along with Doug and who knows else we're doing a weeknd canoing/camping trip. I've been accused of not liking campng, I like it just fine, as long as it's camping, like, away from other people, went camping at a "public" campground many years ago, never fucking agan, it was like going to Wal-Mart and pitchhg a tent.

Also, the Angry Filmmaker will be speaking at WV State tomorrow, make that tonight, now, in the Fine Arts building (same one where the matches were held), go in the front door and it's the frst room on your left. Tell him DFZ said "hey".

Spent all day last Saturday at the South Charleston Rec Center for the double IWA touonaments, Zero G (High flying shit) and Masters Of Pain (death match shit). As a professional courtesy they let me in free, which was cool and something they don't normally do, I'd have ended up pissed if I'd put out $25 for it (they made Danny, who came in after me, pay, ha).

The high flying shit was impressive, but eventually, you know, one moonsault is cool, ten and you're going, "yeah, right". I was really disappointed in the death matches, I'm not a gore houd (unlike the majority of the audience, which was pretty loathesome, wall to wall retards and perverts) but if you're gonna fuckng do death matches.

Some guys got suplexed onto cacti, or live lobsters (I'm not some PETA pussy, but I really didn't see the point of that, I was cheering for the lobsters) or out of the ring or whatever, but it was really tame compared to what I expected it to be, not that bloody at all, I've seen Smokey C bleed as much or more than any of those guys, worknig down at Nitro.

The DM tournament was won by Jun Kasai, aka Crazy Monkey this hilarious, totally (and legitimately)out of his mind little Japanese fucker. His back is so scabbed over and packed with scar tissue it's probably the texture of tortoise shell. Looks atrocious.

They're after DFZ to come back full time at XMCW, also got a couple other promotors, now that APEX is pretty much done, after me to work for them, but I don't thnk so, not just yet, anyway.

Actually, sacreligious as it may sound, it feels good to put the Death Falcon out to pasture for a month or so-

(YOU BUGGIN').

I what did you say?

(YOU BUGGN').

You've been hanging with that fucking Hoody Doody again, haven't you?

(CHILL, DAWG. I HANG WITH WHOEVER I WANT. AND IT'S HIM THAT'S BEEN HANGIN' WITH ME).

Yeah, well you better not come home with dreads is all I've got to say.

(I ALWAYS COME HOME WITH DREAD, I HATE THIS PLA-)

I said, with DREADS.

( YOU BUGGIN').

Jesus.

And here's a testimonial to stickingi it out, choke down those first couple beers even though your stomach is threatening revolt and voila. Or rather, eureka. They start getting easier, and I'm already feeling the best I have all day (sweating like it's a hundred degrees in here, though). Let's see how 14 (or more) Pabst Bluie Ribbon make us feel tonight, or again, today

"I've waited forty years for this fight". Soviet Super Soldier. 
"And it's gonna take me five minutes to plant you in the dirt". Ultimate Captain America

What's Bill been reading? Went back in Books a Million and finished that Ultimates book I started a while back, also a couple others, and no one looked at me twice this time- actually, Joe Ng came arouind, he's working there now, I asked him to steal some books for me probably louder than he was comfortable with, he took off like I was radioactive. Funny.

Bought a new (to me, it's on issue #12) magazine, Scream, not bad, a bit pricey, and obsessive, like these genre mags can get, also another book on Men's Adventure Magazines, more crazy stuff like in issue Be Thankful It's A Man's World, I LOVE this shit, besides great magazine titles like the insanely oxymoronic Fury: The Magazine Of Constructive Living, and (from the 30's) Capt. Billy's Whizz Bang-

(ISN'T THAT WHAT YOU CALL YOUR-)

Sometimes. Anyway, you also get great articles like (with no repeats from our earlier issue)-

"Mad Monkey's Manned The Lifeboats", "I'm Teaching My Kid to Fight Dirty"-

(GOOD FOR HIM).

Really, also "The Heinous Hyenas of Hama-"

(YOU SAID 'HEINOUS").

I know, please, let me continue here, "Never Marry A Cannibal!" (just fuck 'em and leave 'em), "The Great Bosom Hoax", "Will You Someday Watch Pornographic Movies On Your TV Set?" (imagine), "Are You Thinkng Yourself Into Sickness?", (absolutely, oh, wait, you said "thinkinig") "The Strange Sex Lives Of Geniuses" (it's not so strange, really) "I Like Being A Homosexual", "Shove The Butt Down His Throat" (ahem), "A Gator Ripped My Arm Off" and what I presume is it's sequel, "Give Me Back My Arm" and just crazy ass shit like "Fry Me In Acid', "I Blew Myself Up", "The Bastard Smashed Me", (bastard) and "The Bloody Mess Was Me" (better than it being me).

Also this bizarre obsession with beng eaten alive (and again, if you were eaten alive, how the fuck did you write the damn article, through a medium?)- "I Watched Myself Being Eaten Alive", "Help Me, They're Eatng Me Alive!" "The Sea Monster Ate Us Alive", "Satans Pigs (?!) Ate Us Alive" "The Day I Was Eaten Alive", "The Bastards Are Eating Me Alive", (is that better or worse than smashing you?) "Chewed Alive and Screaming " and, in what sounds like a totally futile request, "Please Don't Eat Me Alive". Whew.

I don't know what it is I like about you But I like it a lot

What's Bill listening to? Some old Led Zeppelin, not like there's any new Led Zeppelin, albums I and III to be precise, the new remastered ones (the ones that were issued right after CDs started coming out sucked hard, they sounded terrible) that I got for free with some of my bonus points at BMG. Whoopee.

What's Bill been watchinig? Well, obviously some porn tapes, too many , in fact, cos they have to play in real time on this device to convert over to DVD, for the most part I've just watched them out of the corner of my eye to make sure they keep recording and nothing fucks up- imagine worrying about that- the pro ones, anyway, I have to admit I pay a good bit more attention to the ones I have a personal stake (ha) in.

First time I've put any of these tapes in in ages, since well before I moved out here (couple anniversaries, last week it was four years since I left CCIL and the world of real work, don't miss it even one tiny bit, although I'm not sure what I'm doing now is that much better, also next week it will be one year since I've officially moved in here, Lord help me) as I've said before, I never saw much point in watchng these things alone.

Also been watching No Reservations on the Travel Channel at 10 pm, Mondays, with Anthiony Bourdain, this cocky little fucker used to be on the Food Network, travels all over the world eating shit, I can't stand his ass much at all but I like the show, I'd say it convinced me I want to go to Japan and Scandinavia, but I already knew that. Danny was talking at his party about gettig a trip together next summer to go to Belize, I'll believe it when I see it, but if it happens, I'm there.

Man, I think there was some other stuff in the first one before we went to nostalgia corner, but for the life of me I can't remember what it was. And this thing of trying to recreate the ambience of last night by starting on the PBR at nine in the mornning yeesh.

Whatever, let's go trippin', boys and girls, I know we were going to pick up back in 11th grade typing class, fuck that little hobgoblin, we'll get back there eventually. My Mom and Aline were talking earlier today- fuck, yesterday, now- about JFK for some reason, I think it had to do with their days at the FBI- and yeah, it's bizarre, but both Aline and my Mom used to work there, "My Mom Was A Fingerprint File Clerk For The FBI Who Ate My Dad Alive Cos He Married A Cannibal"- and as an aside, I used to HATE JFK as a kid, hated the ground he walked on, cos he and Nixon were always taking off something I wanted to watch for one of their miserable debates, why didn't I hate that scum bag Nixoin as well, cos JFK was the one everyone was talking about, so he got the blame, I hated him so much whenever his photo would be in the paper I'd cut it out and abuse it, spit or piss on it or wipe my ass with it (that damn slick newsprint would slide halfway up my back) or cut it up with scissors or burn it on the stove or draw pictures of flaming swords ramming through hs head, I never forgave the fucker, so much so that when he was shot, and everyone else in the entire school is crying their eyes out, I was going "Thank God", my second grade tracher Mrs. Tall (she was short, and fat) overheard me and jumped my shit huge-

Mrs.Tall: How can you say such a terrible thing?! 
Billy: Cos now the son of a bitch won't always be coming on my tv taking off Captain Tugg and Combat and- 
Mrs, T: You think the next President won't make any speeches? 
B: There's gonna be ANOTHER one?

I never did pay much attention to politics.

We're here to talk about somethng else, though, which is the day they atom bombed Carmody Hills elementary school. This tale should probably start with a little somethng I like to call the Cuban Missle Crisis. October of '62, when I'm in frst grade (yeah, I know, how can I be this old and still look so fuckig good, I'm a freak of fuickng nature, that's how), I remember Mrs. Smith from across the street had come over to the house to listen to JFK's speech with my parents, cos Mr. Smith was at work and this was genuinely scary stuff, everyone knew Kruschev was a crazy fucker, "We will bury you" and banging on his desk with a shoe and all that, and here was JFK telling him he'd better back off or we were gonna fuck him up.

I come into the room while they're watchig the speech, got something really important to ask, like how many army men would it take to kill a tricertops or somethng, and Mrs. Smith yells at me, all screetchy, "Billy, will you SHUT UP, we're all about to die!"

Well, if we're all about to die, then can somebody PLEASE tell me how many army men it would take to kill a triceratops, and quick?

The tension during this time in the DC area was immense, as you can imagine, it tapered off some as the crisis itself ended, but certainly didn't go away, we were always having Civil Defense assemblies (in the multi-purpose room) and air raid dirlls, just like fire drills, where we'd have to crawl under our desks and duck and cover, this after they'd already shown us footage of A-bombs blowing over buildings like they were tissue papaer, how fuckng stupid did they think we were? This was the genesis of Billy eating bugs and rolling around naked in the snow and pissing on his self inflicted wounds.

Allow me a minute to speak about my first grade teacher, Miss Westerfield. She was one of my first crushes, and I rermember her as being very beautiful, maybe she was, maybe she wasn't, (and it blows my mind to thnk that she must be a very old woman today, if she's even still alive, TIME, Jesus) but as an adult she was one of the few as I was growing up, such as I've done, who showed me a rare understaninding, and I'll always be grateful to her, cos she could have made school a living hell for me if she'd wanted.

As would be a repeating theme in my battle with educatuion, I was bored insane in first grade, I could already read and write, and here are these kids sounding out "a", so Miss Westerfield let me draw, sometimes- "What's that?" "That's a plane crashing into the President's head, and that's his blood, and that's his brains-" "Lets do somethng else for a while"- she also let me bring comic books tp class and read them while the rest of the kids were learning their ABC's, my King Kong nemesis Principal Mrs. Bailey came into class one time while I was reading an Our Army At War, Sgt, Rock and Easy Company- after my first bout of uncontrolled behavior was deemed insanity and I had my initial go round with the psych doctors- I was all of five- Doc whoever said I should only read "funnies", or if I couldn't stand them - and I couldn't, Archie never did a thing for me, Betty and Veronica notwithstanding- then I could read war comics, whcih had all kinds of death and destrction in them, but not superhero or monster comics, cos they were "bad for kids", whatever- she (Mrs. Bailey) wasn't too thrilled about me reading comics in class, so Miss Westerfield basically told her, "You entertain his ass, then" and Mirs. Bailey let the issue drop, and I adored Miss Westerfield all the more- "What's this a picture of?" "This is a picure of me and you after we're married, and those are our babies, and-" "Let's do somethg else for a while".

She was also wonderfully understanding the time I cold cocked Gary Flieschman. Gary was this pale, pudgy, pop eyed kid (he always had these grotesque pink bags under his eyes as well) looked like a five year old Peter Lorre, who had issues of his own, every few weeks he'd come roaring up out of his chair in the most entertiaing seizures a kid could ever want to see, I sat next to him cos I wasn't scared of him like half the class, shit, I figured I was getting a front row seat at the freak show, "Miss Westerfield, THERE HE GOES AGAIN!"

I remember one of his first seizures I put my sweater under his head and Miss Westerfield thought that was the most touchng thng, hell, the sound his head was making bouncing off the linoleum was setting my teeth on edge.

One day Gary's coloring this handout we'd been given, I glance over and the little fucker is coloring red next to yellow. I have no idea why that bothers me like it does, but it does, for total real, it still makes me about half sick to look at, back then it drove me pretty much out of my mind-

Billy: Gary, quit putting red next to yellow. 
Gary: I can dwaw- (I forgot to mention he lisped)- what I want. 
B: Yeah, but I'm telling you, quit putting red next to yellow, it's making me feel really funny. STOP IT. 
G: Qwit wooking.

A reasonalbe request, but instead I clocked him upside the head so hard I knocked hm clean out of his damn chair. He hit the floor crying (but thank God, not seizing) and although Miss Westerfield punished me- "No hitting, Billy, especailly Gary, we've talked about this before" she only set me in the corner, didn't send me down to see the dead evil Mrs. Bailey (Miss Westerfield hadn't been the one to pull me off the playground for tryng to strangle Ronnie Darnell in the King Kong episode, it had been another teacvher), and most importantly, she didnt mock or ridicule my red next to yellow defense/explanation, nor did she respond like my Dad did when he got hiome (I had to bring home one of the dreaded "notes from school" and get it signed) and I told him about red next to yellow, he just shook his head and looked at my Mom and said,"The boy's nuts".

Anyway, Miss Westerfield was a very fine lady and a very good teacher and I hope with all my heart that she's had a very good life. If she'd been there the day in question I think it might have turned out differently, but she wasn't, so

One sunny day the sprng of '63, Mrs. Bailey gets the brilliant idea to have an air raid drill without informing the faculty. I don't know why, maybe she was drunk, I think she just liked showing everyone who was the damn boss, but for whatever reason, a giood idea it was not.

We'd just come in from recess and were getting our books out, or whatver we were supposed to be doing next, when the big air raid siren there at the school goes off. Fucker was LOUD, too. I remember the sub- she was this older lady, may have been all of 35, nice enough but she wasn't my Miss Westerfield, who was young and tall and bliond and who I worshipped the very air she breathed, even at that tender, tender age I went overboard about the woman I was infatuated with- got this kind of puzzled look on her face, but not at all alarmed, I presume figuring it was no big deal, as a sub she must have been left out of the loop somehow, she even asked, "What are we supposed to do now?"

I'm starting to hear a lot of noise out in the hallway, and from the other classrooms, sounds a lot like chaos, then one of the other first grade teachers comes blazing into our room, holding her head in her hands, and screams, "This is not a drill, children! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!" then runs the fuck back out of the classroom. Dramatic.

Mrs. Substitute Teacher stands there for a bit with her mouth all gawped open, stunned, while she slowly goes as white as any live person I've ever seen, all the kids watching her, none of us having a damn clue what we're supposed to do when she bursts into tears. Well, shit,that did it, about 3/4 of the class burst into tears with her, including pop eyed little Gary, who starts squalling like the kid next to him just whacked him in the head again. Then Mrs. Sub goes running out of the classroom- closlely followed by one Billy Bitner.

Fuck this shit. If Armageddon is nigh, I'm going hiome.

I ran up the big hill there in front of the school as fast as I've ever run anywhere, anytime, and down the street- we only lived a few blocks from the school- watching the sky the whole time. If a plane had flown over then leaving a vapor trail I'd have shit in my pants, there's not a doubt in my mnd. I almost did, anyway.

The closer I get to my house the more frightend I get, not just scared, but asshole clenching, throat tghtening terrified, not for me, but for my Mom, you can blow me up all you want to you Commie motherfuckers, but you blow up my mom, Jesus, YOU BLOW UP MY MOM, and I swear I'll come back form hell or wherever it is I end up, and I'll kill every goddamn one of you, KILL EVERY GODDAMN ONE OF YOU- (plus wipe my ass with your photos and draw big, crude pictures of planes crashng your brains out)-
I come just FLYING in the house-

Mom: Billy, what are you doing home so early? And you've been running . .. what did you do? 
Billy: (out of breath and panting): Bomb! 
M: What?

Dear God, even back in 1963 she thought I was saymg "Mom".

B: I said bomb! 
M: What? 
B: BOMB! 
M: WHAT? 
B: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMB!!! 
M: WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT???

By the time I got the daft woman to realize I was saying "bomb"- "Is that what that siren was for? Dear Lord-" the phone was ringing, it was the school secretary.

Secretary: Mrs. Bitner, is Billy there? 
M: Yes, he is, he just came running in here saying the Russians were bombing the grade school. 
S: About that

There was a HUGE stink about if, from faculty as well as parents, Mrs. Bailey was unrepentant, as was her way, but it cost her her job anyway, at least I assume that's what did it, she wasn't there the next year, and good damn riddance. Of course, I didn't get along with her successor, Mr. Adler, any better, four eyed prick.

(SWEET CHRISTMAS!)

You been reading Hoody Doody's old Luke Cage, Hero For Hire's, haven't you?

(SO? IT'S GOOD STUFF.)

So don't be coming home with no afro and a metal headband.

(LUKE SHAVES HIS HEAD NOW. HE WANTS TO BE LIKE THE DEATH FALCON).

Who can blame him? Anyway, what were you Sweet Christmas-ing about?

(YOUR HORRIBLE ATTITUDE. "FOUR EYED PRICK").

He was. And my attitude is what it is, don't be givng me no fuckng lectues, especiailly not today.

(WHATEVER).

Time to go, I've got to try and sober up now so I can go down to Al's tonight. Fuck me running. I hiope everyone enjoys this issue, cos it didn't come easy.

(YOU BUGGIN').

That's right. I buggin'.

Later

Bill